Of All the Things I Want to Change
by theonlyunicorn
Summary: Carly is engaged in resistance activity against the Dark Lord's regime when she is caught by a band of Snatchers led by a man named Scabior. Thrown into this brutal world, Carly struggles to survive and learns what it means to fight for a cause.
1. Chapter 1: Caught in the Forest

_**Here is my first attempt at fanfiction. I became very interested in the character of Scabior because he is so underdeveloped in the books, as well as the films. This story is inspired largely on the idea that everyone wants to be someone's exception, hence the title "Of All the Things I Want to Change." I don't buy into the idea that a prisoner of the snatchers could fall in love with one of them, although I will admit that Stockholm Syndrome does exist. Rather, I think that a character could be drawn towards Scabior for a different reason – and this is what I wish to develop in this story.**_

_**Reviews, commentary, and criticism would be greatly appreciated as I am writing this as an exercise – this is way out of my genre. If there is interest, I will continue with this story. **_

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><p><span>Chapter 1: Caught in the Forest<span>

Carly wheeled about in the clearing, listening intently for the sound of following footsteps. She extinguished her wand with a non-verbal _nox_, and crouched low to the ground. The moon shone overhead, illuminating the trees and casting convoluted shadows across the forest floor.

There had definitely been someone there. The crunch of a boot. A snapped twig. These sounds had woken her from sleep, and led her to leave her sleeping bag and supplies in a frenzy of panic. And now there was silence.

Carly knew that there were others like her. Those who had fled. Truly, she was hoping for company. Yet Neville's last letter had been over a week ago, and she had no way of knowing which way the war was headed without even a glimpse of a Daily Prophet, or a shred of news. Nor could she find her family. They were gone; one of the first families of the Order of the Phoenix to have been hunted down. Carly knew not whether they were dead or imprisoned in Azkaban. Which was worse?

A loud crack echoed across the clearing, and Carly saw a large shadow rising from a crouch low to the ground. The outline of a wand could be seen by his side. Another crack erupted on her right, and the young woman took off at a headlong sprint in the opposite direction. Rough twigs clawed at her face as she fought to keep her footing along the rough wooded grounded, which was littered with broken logs and stray rocks.

"Well don't hang' about," she heard an amused voice say from the clearing, "snatch'er!"

Snatchers! These were the last people Carly wanted to run into alone in a forest. If they caught her, she would be sent to the Ministry to endure unknown horrors. She had no idea what happened to runaways from Hogwarts who were known affiliates of the Order of the Phoenix and who had done the things that she had.

Spurred on by this realization, Carly accelerated. A jet or red screamed past her head, missing her by inches and taking a large chunk out of a nearby oak tree. In response, the brunette shouted "_Confringo," _and heard the sound of spraying dirt and the shattering of wood behind her. Someone swore loudly to her left and Carly panicked. She veered sharply to the right and stumbled, catching her foot on an uncovered root. Somehow, Carly maintained her death grip on her wand and rolled to her feet just in time to deflect the first stunning spell.

The man's wand slashed the air again and Carly ducked, taking advantage of the slight lull in action to take in her surroundings. She could hear the sounds of more hurrying feet, and the harsh sounds of laboured breathing.

"Expelliarmus!" someone shouted behind her. Carly blocked the spell and responded with a stunning spell, causing the second man to crumple to his knees. Another came forward to take his place, but the young women took him down easily before taking off into the woods again. She glanced behind her and saw a man, faster than the others, who was almost level with her. Before she could formulate her next move, Carly was knocked off her feet by his spell. She flew several feet before her back hit a tree, driving the wind from her body. Her wand landed out of sight.

Someone reached down and dragged her up by her sweater. Swiftly, her arms were pinned behind her back. Carly stamped hard on his foot, took advantage of his loosened hold on her arms, and spun around to knee him in the groin. Presently, however, she was grabbed from behind and felt a wand pressed to her throat.

"Easy there, love" a male voice crooned into her ear. The arm wrapped about her chest smelled of stale sweat and smoke. A red band encircled his upper arm, marking him as a snatcher: an enforcer in the service of You-Know-Who, drawn from the lowest of the low, and seeking out fugitives for recompense in gold. Dying in the clutches of Voldemort's enforcers was not the way that Carly had hoped to die. She struggled in vain against the man's strong arms, ignoring the presence of his wand.

"Oi, Greyback, take a hold of her will you." The man ordered, shoving Carly forward so suddenly that she lost her balance and fell into the arms of an even larger man.

"Mmhh… so soft," grunted the new man as he reached to stroke her neck with an enormous hand. Carly glimpsed yellowed and pointed fingernails. She wanted to scream. She'd hoped that the name might be coincidence, but this certainly was _the_ Greyback. She tried to fight him off, but desisted as the werewolf pressed her closer to his body and began to inhale loudly. Instead, she turned her attention to the man who had disarmed her and sent her sprawling to the forest floor.

"Hello' beau'iful," he said, stepping towards her. He wore a black leather jacket over plaid pants and a dark shirt. There was a red streak through his tangled hair, which fell down past his shoulders and was held back, partly, by a leather cord. He might have been handsome were he cleaner and better groomed. As his face neared hers, she noted a tattoo on his neck, marking him as an inmate of Azkaban. Carly felt herself shudder involuntarily.

"Tell me, wa's your name, love?" He asked, raising his hand to cup her cheek.

"Lavender Brown," she replied, stating the first name that came to her mind.

"Well why didn't you jus' say so?"the snatcher mused. "Check it!" He ordered someone beyond Carly's line of sight. She heard some rustling of paper and the unmistakable sound of a quill being run across parchment.

"There's no Lavender Brown on here, Scabior," A man shouted, coming nearer to peer at Carly's face, "She does seem to be about 'Ogwarts age, though, doesn't she?"

Greyback ran a large, dirty hand through her hair, then pulled back suddenly, forcing her head up towards the man named Scabior. Carly whimpered as she felt the werewolf's nails dig into her scalp. "What's your name, girlie?" he growled into her ear.

"I told you," Carly replied, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. "I'm Lavender Brown, a pureblood. My parents –"

The man named Scabior slapped her across the face, then said in a menacingly soft voice, "Come now dear, we know that ain't true. So why not save yourself some pain and be 'onest now. Tell us yer name, or might be I'll give you a new one."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Carly retorted, surprised by her own boldness. The snatcher reached out and grasped the side of her face tightly. Carly could feel his fingers digging into her skin and knew that she would have bruises later. The young woman stared up at the man with a determined expression. She tried to hide her fear behind cold green eyes, but inside her mind was reeling. She felt her heart might burst from her chest. She expected him to slap her again, or curse her. He did neither. He laughed.

"Well, might be yeh'll need some convincing, love. I c'n manage that."

"What boss? Why not take her t'the Ministry with the others?" Asked one of the men who had finally caught up. He gestured towards a pair of boys no older than Carly that two other snatchers held. Both looked grim and worn, and one sported a black eye and an ugly purple bruise which marred half of his face.

"It's late," said Scabior, "We'll bring em' in the morning. Might be I can loosen up the girl's tongue a bit in the meantime. Besides, she's a pretty little creature, and I'm tired of having only yeh boy's around." He chuckled darkly and turned to grin about wickedly at his companions. Greyback chuckled darkly behind her, and Carly sprung from his arms. She tore off in the opposite direction, barreling through several snatchers in her way.

She ran as fast as she could through the gloom of the forest, weaving among the trees and jumping down outcropping banks. She cursed herself for forgetting to seize a wand, and concentrated on trying to lose her pursuers. The moon was high above now and Carly knew that, although she couldn't disaparate without a wand, she might be able to evade the snatchers in the dark. She ran until every breath made her lungs ache. Finally, she broke to walk. She was now completely disorientated, and her head was pounding to match her racing heart. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, she sighed in relief.

"Don't think you'll be getting' off so easy, beautiful," a familiar voice said from the darkness. She saw the shape of the lead snatcher detach itself from a nearby tree. He raised his wand. Carly tried to run, but was caught mid-step by his spell and crumpled to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2: Contrivances

_**Thank you so much to everyone who subscribed and/or reviewed. I greatly appreciate it. Sorry that this chapter's a bit short. I felt that I needed this space to develop both Scabior and Carly a little, and most importantly, to develop Carly's opinion of Scabior. It's sort of an in-between chapter, but I hope you guys will stick with this story because I do have the plot planned out. Cheers **_

_**Also, is the dialogue working for you guys? I'm not accustomed to writing very much dialogue, so any suggestions would be most welcome. **_

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><p><span>Chapter 2: Contrivances<span>

Carly awoke to the light patter of rain across the canvas surface of a large tent. Her body ached, and her head felt fit to burst. She scrambled to her feet, feeling about for her wand, only to remember the events of the previous evening. Cautiously, she stepped towards the tent's opening.

"You shouldn't try, girl," a hoarse voice whispered behind her. The man with the black eye and the bruised face sat behind her, his head resting on the side of the tent. "We've tried everything. It's not worth it."

"And what's the alternative," Carly shot at him. "Don't you know what's going to happen to us if they take us to the Ministry."

"Don't see why you're so worried," the man chided. "Ye'll just be carted off to Hogwarts, I expect."

Carly opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, reluctant to divulge information to this unknown stranger. Instead, she sat down on a dark grey pallet, and took account of her injuries. Both her arms were littered with scratches from the forest. She guessed her face was equally marred, and could feel crusted blood against her forehead. Aside from some bruises, though, she seemed unharmed.

Just then, a dark-haired man entered the tent. Really, he was no more than a boy, but his clothes were used and dirty, and the expression on his face was hard and cold. He quickly strode across the sparsely furnished expanse of the tent and seized Carly firmly by the upper arm, dragging her towards entryway. Carly tried to pull away, but he twisted her arm painfully behind her back in response. Inwardly fuming, she desisted and let herself be let quietly outside of the tent.

A handful of plain canvas tents surrounded a large campfire. Similar to the tent from which she had emerged, these appeared small from the exterior, and benefitted from an enlargement charm on the inside. The snatchers had made camp here for awhile, from what Carly could tell. The dirt in the campsite was churned about, and here and there empty bottles of firewisky lay scattered across the ground. She espied men around the campfire, sitting on logs and other makeshift chairs. One turned around and called "Hey Arty." The sky was dark with rainclouds, but Carly guessed it might be early afternoon.

Arty pushed her towards the largest tent, ignoring the calls of his companions. Inside, Carly found a relatively large room, containing a bed, a small bookstand, a fireplace, and a table with chairs. Beyond, several walled off areas were hidden from view. Arty shoved her roughly into the centre of the tent.

"Well beautiful, it's time fer us to resume our talk from las' night," the man named Scabior said. Carly never saw where he came from and only watched in shock as he sauntered over to the table and swung his booted feet up. "You can leave now, Arty. She won't be going anywhere soon." Arty nodded and left the tent. "Sit."

Carly glanced towards the door, then stared at Scabior. He stood up in one fluid moment and stepped towards her, his hands fumbling inside his robes. "I wouldn't try it, beautiful."

"Well then it's a good thing you're not me," said Carly. He cocked his head to the side, a smirk spreading steadily across his face. Carly tried to kick him between the legs, but he moved quicker than she would have thought possible, grabbed her ankle, and flipped her to the tent's dirty ground. The impact took Carly's breath away, leaving her panting on the ground. Scabior dragged her roughly by the collar of her shirt and shoved her into a chair. Carly went to get up again, but ropes shot out the snatcher's wand, tying her hands to the chair's sides.

"Yeh sure are a feisty one, eh?" said Scabior, stepping back to take a better look at his prisoner. He crouched down so his face was near Carly's. "Now, you're gonna tell me your name."

She stared at him, unable to come up with a suitable lie. How had she been so stupid last night? Of course they'd know she wasn't Lavender Brown. That girl was still at Hogwarts, probably being terrified daily by the Carrows. They had to know that. They could check.

"I'm not a nice man, beautiful" Scabior said, catching her chin in his large hand and digging his nails into her cheeks. She tried to pull away, but he only brought his face closer to hers. Carly spat in his face and pulled violently against the ropes binding her. Of course, her efforts were entirely fruitless.

Scabior sighed, drew his wand from within his jacket and began twirling it between his hands. He looked up at Carly and she noticed that he had pale grey eyes, flecked with blue. He flicked his wand gently and Carly screamed, straining against the ropes. It felt as though a thousand knives were stabbing into her body from every imaginable angle. She would tell him anything just to make it stop.

The pain receded and slowly the interior of the tent came back into focus. Carly was panting. Scabior had stood up and seemed to be drinking from a bottle. He looked to her again and she flinched involuntarily. Scabior stared at her expectantly, then took a seat and placed his wand on the table.

"How old 're you?" he asked. Seeing that she was not going to answer, he continued, "One way or another you're going to answer my questions. Let's star' with the easy ones."

"I'm eighteen," Carly said, meeting his eyes.

"See, that wasn't so hard," Scabior mused, re-arranging a strand of Carly's hair behind her ear.

"Let me go," she said angrily, recoiling from his touch "You have no authority to keep me here."

"Really, love? Seems t'me I am the authority. Anyways, we're in a forest, if yeh haven't noticed."

"You, an authority?" Carly tried to laugh nonchalantly, "Well it seems to _me_ that a man carrying an Azkaban tattoo is hardly a qualified law enforcer."

Scabior hit her across the face, leaving a trail of blood across her cheek. The ring he wore had scraped into her skin. It was shaped like a stag, Carly noticed. She used to know someone whose patronus was a stag. That seemed so long ago.

"I'd watch your tongue, dear," Scabior said rising to his full height, "Might be I'll decide you don't need it anymore."

Carly laughed. "Well I guess won't be learning my name then."

"Maybe I don't need to learn it. I jus' want to hear you say it, beautiful." He flashed her a wicked smile.

"Hey Scabior, Greyback's back with the new list." A voice called from outside the tent. Scabior stared down at Carly for a moment, frowning slightly. He wiped a tear of blood off of her cheek. Then he turned on his heel and left the tent, the flap swinging into place behind him.

Alone in the snatcher's tent, Carly finally took the time to examine her surroundings closely. Her eyes fell on the large pile of newspaper clippings and lists strewn about on the table. To her horror, she saw a picture of herself. She recognized it as one taken at Hogwarts in her sixth year. She stood between Neville Longbottom and Parvarti Patil, laughing. Below the picture, she read "_Carlene Helling, Hogwarts Student, known affiliate of the Order of the Phoenix."_ Her stomach flipped as she noticed another sheet, listing places where she was sighted, and most horrible of all, a water-stained letter addressed to her. No wonder they had found her.

_I just want to hear you say it, beautiful. _

_What a sadist_, thought Carly.


	3. Chapter 3: Ministry of Madness

**_Sorry this chapter took a while to upload. I had a really bad writing day, so I ended up editing this over and over again. Then, everytime I edited it I felt I had to do another proofreading round (I'm famous for typos), and everytime I proofread I ended up editing again. That's my rambling for the day. That's also a pretty awful sentence.  
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**_Anyways, I tried to establish a bit more of the temporal setting here. Since the snatchers appear much more in the movies than in the books, I will be basing this largely on the movie's versions of events (although not entirely). _**

**_As ever, I love to read your reviews. Cheers :)  
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><p><span>Chapter 3: Ministry of Madness <span>

Her stomach growled audibly. Carly sighed. One of the downsides of being a marathon runner was that her metabolism was sky high - try explaining that to a bunch of snatchers. She suspected that Scabior had been gone for a couple of hours, but it was impossible for her to be certain as she sat, unable to move, in the man's tent. Upon feeling the blood running down her wrists, Carly had given up her attempt to break her bindings. There was certainly something to say of the ropes Scabior had conjured; they were odiously strong.

Carly dreaded the man's return. Once he had left the tent, she had fought to hold the tear backs. She did not want to give Scabior the satisfaction of seeing her cry, but she didn't know how long she could maintain her strong outer appearance. The truth was that Scabior terrified her. It was likely that he held a high place in the ranks of the snatchers. At the very least, he was the leader of one band. Anyways, what he had said earlier still rang true. She was trapped in the middle of a forest with a band of dirty, greasy, bounty hunters. The possibilities were terrifying.

Several loud _cracks_ echoed outside, and Carly heard the approach of raised voices. The tent flap blew open as Scabior entered, followed by a man Carly recognized as Greyback from his Wanted Posters, and another snatcher whose name she did not know. All three looked considerably flustered. Carly thought she saw a flicker of fear in the unknown man's face as he glanced towards Scabior, only to quickly look away.

"I jus' don't see the sense in it," Scabior ranted, "It's been months since the damn break'in, and what would it hav' to do with us anyways." He paced back and forth along the length of the tent. "Three months ago, wasn't it? Han?"

"Sometime near the beginning of September, yeah," the other snatcher said quietly. He seemed afraid to meet Scabior's eyes, staring down instead and his muddy and worn boots. He looked only to be a couple years older than Carly.

"Besides," Scabior continued, "Not like we got any to do with Potter an' his friends an' their little break-in plan. The Ministry should be doublin' its efforts to capture the boy, not hinderin' our work fer the Dark Lord."

Greyback, who had kept silent through this exchange, dropped a large scroll of parchment onto the table and approached Carly. She noticed that the yellow eyes of his eyes almost matched the colour of his long, curved fingernails. There was a hungry look about him that immediately filled the young witch with an entirely new form of dread. He reached out a hand to brush Carly's cheek.

"Greyback," Scabior snapped, "Bring Durkey here for me, will ya?" It was more of a command than a question. "Han, get out."

The werewolf lumbered out of the tent, but not before shooting an appraising glance at Carly. Han walked quickly from the tent without a second's hesitation. Scabior sighed and drew a chair up near Carly's. Then, he pulled the chair she was tied to closer to himself. When he noticed the blood slowly trickling down her wrists, he clucked his tongue as though scolding a young child.

"Foolish," he said in a mocking voice. Cary looked up at his face and froze as she met cold eyes. The smile on the lower half of his face seemed entirely detached from the rest of his body. Slowly, Scabior began to undo her bindings, examining her hands closely. His fingers were surprisingly gentle. "'Specially with Greyback around. It's 'ard enough for 'im havin' you around without this…" He gestured at her bloody hands.

"It's not just _my_ fault," Carly replied, her mouth uncomfortably dry. She turned her face to remind him of the cut he'd made across her cheek earlier. Scabior only shrugged and stood up as Greyback entered the tent again, dragging the man with the black eye by the collar of his ragged shirt.

"Edwin Durkey," Scabior said, an ugly grin spreading across his face. "I 'av some news for you. The Ministry 'as issued a new edict concernin' prisoners of war."

"I wasn't aware the "Ministry" held any authority anymore," Durkey replied, his distaste for the snatchers plain on his face. "I heard it was run by a bunch of murderers and old-fashioned purists." Greyback punched him from behind and the man doubled over, retching. Scabior slowly drew his wand.

Carly stood up, reflexively, recognizing the look in Scabior's eyes from a couple hours previously. She was frozen, unsure of what to do, but also unwilling to be a mere spectator. A feeling of foreboding grew in her mind.

"The Ministry," Scabior sneered, "'as decided, thanks to Potter's break'in stunt a while back, to set'up some new measures to prevent imposters."

Durkey opened his mouth as though to make another remark, but clamped it shut again, perhaps noticing the dangerous gleam in Scabior's eyes. "And what are these measures?" he asked, making an obvious effort to keep his voice level.

"Well," said Scabior, "tha's for me to know. But what it means for you, is that I don't need to take you to the Ministry, 'cause I won't get a fair cut. I jus' need some information to sell. 'An I know there's some you haven't told me." He raised his wand and said, "_Crucio._"

The man before them fell forward onto the ground, twitching and convulsing. Carly stepped back in horror, reminded suddenly of her grandfather, whose seizures had regularly wracked her family until his death two years earlier. Unable to stand the appalling sight any longer, Cary threw herself at Scabior, breaking his concentration. Durkey stopped screaming and lay, shaking, on the hard ground. Scabior stumbled sideways, sending Carly sprawling to the floor, but he somehow kept his footing. He glared down at her for a moment, fury glinting in his eyes like metal in torchlight. Then, he reached down and hit her in the face. Momentarily stunned, Carly couldn't even muster the strength to fight back as he flung her over his shoulder and strode furiously from the tent.

Outside, night had fallen. A large campfire illuminated the snatchers' camp, while the smell of burning wood and charcoal hung, rancid, in the air. Scabior carried Carly to a nearby tree, ignoring her struggles, and threw her against it, knocking the wind from her body. He pointed his wand at her hands once again, muttering "_incarcerous_." Carly's hands were once again trapped, this time behind her back. The ropes then attached themselves to the tree, holding her in place. The young witch opened her mouth to shout, but Scabior pressed a finger to her mouth.

"No more of that," he whispered softly. He began to walk back towards the tent.

"What are you going to do to him?" Carly asked his receding form as she struggled stubbornly against her bindings.

Scabior turned on his heel and crouched down next to his prisoner. He put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. "Why dear, I'm goin' to make him spill all 'is secrets. He'll tell me his life story. He'll tell me things I don' care about. Do you want to know why? Because he'll do anything to make the pain stop. Then, when he's no more use t'me alive, I'll kill him and leave 'is body in the woods for other rebels to see."

"You're mad!" Carly yelled, pulling as far from the snatcher as her bindings would allow, "you think you can ju-"

"Don't blame me, sweetheart, "Scabior cut across her, "Blame yer Ministry. They're the ones who put a price on' human lives."

"No," Carly said, looking away, "You did. You do."

"I'm jus' doing my job, love" Scabior replied, "Man's gotta make 'is livin' somehow. I don' write the protocol." He stood up and headed back towards the tent. At the entrance, he paused and looked back at Carly. "Now don't go makin' a sound, beautiful. There's no one to hear you scream 'ere, either."

He disappeared into the tent. Carly heard chuckles emanating from the campsite and turned to see the snatchers at the campfire watching her.

She closed her eyes to escape the blatant stares of her onlookers, but nothing could stop her from hearing the screams now echoing across the campsite. They reverberated somewhere deep inside her, and Carly's face was wet where her tears etched their way down her face.


	4. Chapter 4: Kind and Twisted

_**I apologize for the delay. Travelling is very draining, and then there's a ton of things to do when you finally return home.**_

_**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter – it's setting up for things to come.**_

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><p><span>Chapter 4: Kind and Twisted<span>

Morning brought a blanket of pillowing snow, but no soft comforts could lighten Carly's heart. She awoke to find that a rough blanket had been draped about her shoulders sometime during the night. Yet the cold still nipped at her fingers and toes, and snow fell from her brow when she first moved her head. Dead silence rang clearly in the campsite. Carly could make out the last embers of the campfire as they shot the occasional spark into the frigid air.

Footsteps drew her attention, and she looked over to see Scabior approaching, his leather boots crunching the fresh snow. They were slightly girlish, which almost made Cary laugh. This snatcher was odd, undoubtedly. There remained an element of whimsy to his character that clashed abominably with his obvious cruelty and sadistic tendencies.

A flick of his wand, and the ropes restraining Carly against the tree disappeared. Scabior grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. Carly cried out as his fingers dug into her sore arms and couldn't help herself from stumbling into his chest. Without saying a word, Scabior dragged Carly into his tent and flung her, none too gently, into the same chair she had occupied the previous night.

"Stay," he ordered in a warning voice, bustling about with the quick haste of a man in search of something, "Yeh can sit quiet wi' me, or I'm throwing you back out in the snow." With that he left the tent, only to return seconds later carrying the snow-covered blanket Carly had left behind. He seemed almost surprised to find her still sitting in the chair.

"Yer awfully quiet," he observed, "I thought you wanted to tell me 'ow to do my job las' night." His cocky manner had returned, replacing the fury that had been so apparent the night before. Carly sat still, in silence, trying not to think of what had happened in this very place only a few hours previously. She felt surprised, in a way, that he was no longer furious at her. Then again, he'd likely taken all of his anger out on poor Edwin Durkey.

Scabior approached her with a bowl in his hands, and took a seat in the chair next to her. "It's essence o' murtlap, dear," he said, "so you can' stop givin' me that worried look." He pulled Carly's hands onto the table. She stiffened, but her arms were still too numb for her to give the snatcher a good fight.

"Why are you doing this?" Carly asked as he dipped her right hand into the yellow liquid and began to dab at it with a rag he pulled from within the folds of his coat.

"Do you want justifications for _all_ my actions, beautiful?" Scabior frowned at her, moving his attentions to her left hand. "I'm 'ealing you. Isn't that enough?"

"I just thought," Carly closed her mouth and turned her face away. She didn't want to be the one to bring this up, and yet she had to be prepared for whatever came.

"Yes, love?" Scabior smirked. He walked over to a the dresser and pulled out a roll of bandages from the drawer. He looked at her expectantly. "You were goin' to say something?"

"Well, it just doesn't make sense." Carly said quietly as he sat down next to her, pulling her arms closer. She kicked herself inwardly for showing weakness and spoke directly, "Why are you taking care of my hands when you said, last night, that the Ministry doesn't want prisoners anymore?"

"I never said that, beautiful," Scabior said. His amusement shone plain in his face. Apparently he enjoyed keeping Carly on tenterhooks.

"Yes, you d-"

"Nope," he interrupted. "I wasn't talkin' to you. That's 'ow you got in trouble las' night." He began to wrap bandages around each of her wrists. He wound them tightly, causing Carly to wince on several occasions, but he paid her no further mind. For her part, the young witch was hesitant to question him further, as he didn't seem keen on giving her adequate answers.

A few minutes later, however, Scabior broke the silence. He stood and grabbed a glass jar from beneath his bed. After a few whispered words that Carly failed to catch, a bright blue flame appeared in the jar. Scabior placed it on the table. Carly greatly appreciated the warmth, but still watched the snatcher hesitantly. Nothing came without a price.

"So," he said, twirling his plain, dark wand between his fingers before replacing it in his coat pocket, "Eighteen, and still a Hogwarts student. 'ow did that come about?"

Seeing as she had already revealed her age, Cary saw no harm in divulging this bit of information. She felt slightly surprised, even, that he did not know. Surely _that_ detail would appear somewhere in her family records that, judging by what she'd seen strewn across this table earlier, had been extensively researched by the Ministry.

"I started at Beauxbatons," Carly said, "My mother was working in France, so I spent my first year at the Academy."

"What was she doin' over there?" Scabior asked, eyebrows raised. "Your mother, I mean?"

"Teaching."

"At the school?"

"No, at the Enforcers' Office. She was an auror. They have a similar program in France."

"And 'ow did you end up a year behind? You weren't _that_ bad when you ran from us the firs' night." Scabior smiled at her mockingly.

"I was expelled mid-way through the year." Carly said, trying to sound indifferent.

Scabior threw back his head and laughed. "No way! I've seen your files, there ain't no way you could get expelled." He stood up and looked out of the tent's entrance. Carly thought she heard him mutter something along the lines of , "too bloody righteous…"

"Where's the other one? That other man that was in the tent with Durkey." She couldn't contain the burning question.

"I don' see why it's any business of yours, sweetie." Scabior smiled wickedly at her. "But I don't need to kill 'im." He paused for a moment. "You could tell me your name."

"You already know it," Carly exclaimed angrily, tired of this meandering conversation.

"Now who's mad, love?" Scabior questioned, stepping towards her. "Would you really kill a man to save yer pride?"

"I wouldn't be the one killing him!"

Scabior looked at her expectantly, then drew his wand and stepped slowly towards the tent's entrance. He took each step deliberately, raising and lowering his legs with purpose. He disappeared through the doorway.

_Oh God_, thought Carly, _he's serious. He'd really do it. He's that twisted._

"Wait!" she yelled, stumbling towards the settling tent flap. She almost collided with Scabior as he came back into the tent, smirking.

"Yes?" he raised an eyebrow artfully.

"Carly," she whispered, "My name's Carly Helling."

"I know it is, beautiful," He replied, dragging her from the tent by her long brown hair. Carly couldn't help the cry that escaped her lips briefly. Scabior dragged her to the tent she had woken up within the previous morning. He shoved her roughly through the entrance, causing her to sprawl across the floor. Carly scrambled to her knees and looked around. The tent was empty. There were no signs that it had any tenants. She looked towards Scabior in confusion.

"But you said –"

"I never said. I said I didn't _need _to kill 'im. Then I said you could tell me yer name." Scabior's eyes were mocking, any trace of kindness had evaporated. "And you did, Carly."

"I don't understand."

"Of course, yeh don't." The snatcher cocked his head to the side. "I don't _need _to kill 'im if he's already dead. That's an important thing to know, beautiful."

He left, leaving a shocked Carly on the dirty ground. As soon as she heard that familiar _crack_, the young witch sprang to her feet and hurtled towards the tent's entrance.


	5. Chapter 5: The Wandmaker's Apprentice

_**I'm a bad person, I know. And I'm sorry. It's been a long time. The start of a semester is always a pretty busy time for me, not to mention that when friends of mine who live abroad come home to visit, I tend to spend a lot more time socializing than otherwise. **_

_**I really thank any of you who are still interested in reading this. Now that I'm settling back into a normal routine I hope to get out two or three chapters per week. Sound okay?**_

_**Reviews and comments, as always, would be great:) **_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5: The Wandmaker's Apprentice<span>

Having been thrown several feet backwards by the wards placed about the tent's entrance, Carly brushed dirt of her jeans and clambered gingerly to her feet. She could walk right up to the door and move the fabric aside to glance and the campsite beyond, but any move she made to actually leave the tent set off the warding charm. Panic filled Carly, threatening to brim over. She began to pace about the tent, muttering incoherent nonsense to herself and wracking her brain for any idea that might help her escape this predicament.

Wandless.

Stranded.

Alone.

Powerless? Carly fought back the tears. She _had _to get out. Unfortunately, no one had ever prepared her for such circumstances. Her mother's teaching had been all about wand-work. And resourcefulness. But resourcefulness always came hand in hand with wand-work. As for Carly's father, well, lock-picking was not going to be of much use in a snatcher camp. And the DA? It was all spells and running away. Harry said luck was a huge factor. Carly had no such luck, apparently.

"Damn it," Carly muttered angrily. She started to search the tent, which was pretty threadbare. A few cots occupied one corner, while another area was separated by a curtain. Carly suspected a rudimentary bathroom resided there. Otherwise, a single chest of drawers stood on the far side of the tent. The chest proved to contain only worn wizard's robes, but Carly took out a set, just in case. An initial search of the cots yielded no results. The young witch huffed and sat down, only to feel something hard poke her. Carly swung off the bed and ran her hand along the underside of the lumpy mattress until her hand brushed wood. She pulled out a long,badly hewn cylinder of wood. A large fissure split the object, which seemed to be made of dark oak. Out of one end, a single white hair trailed. Carly gasped. She was holding a half-finished wand. Beneath the mattress, she also found a scrap of parchment speckled with rough diagrams of wands. Carly knew very little about wand-making lore; it was a very obscure branch of magic after all. She couldn't prevent herself from being fascinated by this find, however, and under other circumstances she might have accorded more attention to the scribbling adorning the page.

Carly pushed herself to her feet and headed towards the tents entrance. She remembered that Ron had split his wand during second year. He had still been able to perform _some_ magic, with varying consequences. Maybe, the young witched hoped desperately, she would be able to channel enough magic through this wand to break the snatchers' wards.

"_Finite incantem_," she whispered. Angry blue sparks shot out of the wand. Carly tried again. A sound like a rustling wind swept through the tent and Carly felt the air lighten. It was as though the tent itself had been holding its breath.

Carly grabbed the wizard's robes she had pulled from the chest of drawers and stepped cautiously into the clearing. The snow continued to fall lightly from a white sky, but there was no sign of any snatchers. Knowing that the risk of apparating with an unreliable wand was too great, Carly resolved herself to other plans. She did not feel any inclination whatsoever to return to Scabior's tent. Instead, she walked into a smaller tent, across from his, and searched for a suitable hiding place. She would await the return of the snatchers and hopefully catch one unawares, allowing her to snag a proper wand. Then, she would apparate as far from this horrid camp as she could with her dwindling energy reserves.

The hours crawled by as Carly sat in the dull, canvas tent. Her eyes had begun to droop by the time she heard a series of sharp _cracks_ from the clearing. Carly pulled out the fragile wand and crept to the door. Because the tent was almost entirely devoid of furniture, she felt her best bet was to wait next to the entrance. At least she'd be near to the exit if her plan failed.

A dirt-stained man entered the tent with a cocky grin etched on his face. Carly tightened her grip on the pseudo-wand and focused all her concentration on a simple stunning spell, hoping to knock the snatcher senseless without a struggle. Nothing happened. Carly crouched closer to the tent's wall, hoping to escape the man's gaze. He sauntered towards the pallet on the ground and began to remove his filthy jacket. Carly tried the non-verbal spell again, hoping desperately for a result. Several sparks shot out of the end of the wand, causing Carly to jump backwards and quickly hide the wand in her shirt to mask the sudden burst of light. She yelped as the wand's tip burnt a hole in her shirt, scorching the skin beneath.

"Shit," said Carly, looking up.

The snatcher stared at her, wide-eyed, from the other side of the tent. Carly stared back, thinking fast. The man opened his mouth –

_"Stupefy!_" yelled Carly_. _The wand exploded from the force of her spell, splintering between her , Carly leapt towards the snatcher who slowly came out of his stupor and raised his wand. _Too late_, thought Carly as she crashed into him, their bodies tangling on the tent's hard dirt floor. They grappled for a moment. The man was much larger than his attacker, but he was also weakened by the impact which had knocked the wind from his body. Carly could hear raised voices nearing the tent. With a final surge of ferocity, she pried the snatcher's wand from his grasp and succeeded in stunning him. The young witch disentangled herself from the man's motionless body and turned towards the tent's opening.

"No you don't, bitch!" Shouted Greyback from the entrace, his teeth bared into a feral smile. A red jet of light shot from his wand. Carly blocked it reflexively and countered with the _conjunctivitis _curse. Greyback dodged to the side. The curse hit the tent which began to convulse upon itself. Through the tangled mess of canvas, Carly could no longer see Greyback, but she could heard his roars and the sound of tearing fabric.

"_Diffindo_!" Carly muttered and breathed in the fresh air as the canvas collapsed around her. She was greeted by yet another spectacle. The remaining snatchers, who counted less than a dozen, stared at her. Carly's eyes fell on the man nearest her and her heart sank. Scabior's expression was terrifying. His chest rose and fell, not out of exertion, but rather from the unconcealed anger that permeated his entire body. His mouth was half open, and he cocked his head to the side as though appraising a misbehaving child. Luckily, Carly found herself with the trees at her back. The snatchers were fanned out before her. She took a slow step backwards, wand raised.

"Not a good idea, beautiful," Said Scabior.

Carly stepped back again. One of the men shot a jet of green light towards her. She ducked and sent a stunning spell in retaliation.

"Lay off, Bridges!" Scabior yelled furiously at the attacking snatcher, "She ain't no good t'us dead!" He turned his attention back towards Carly. "You're mine. I'll find yeh."

"I don't think so," Carly replied, "Not this time."

"No, Car-lee," he drew her name out into two exaggerated syllables, "I will find you. I'll make you scream."

Carly offered no response. She stared at him disdainfully. There was a manic glint in his eye, and Carly couldn't help but to be reminded of a predator who stood still, waiting for his prey to make the first move, so as to prolong the chase. _You're mine. _

She felt the familiar jerk behind her navel and left the forest behind.

* * *

><p>"'Ow did she get out, boss?" Asked Horskin.<p>

Scabior rose from his crouch among the remnants of the tent. In his right hand, he held the remnants of the wand Carly had found.

"She found this," he replied quitely, "Ollivander's 'prentice must 'ave smuggled the bits in when we wasn't looking." Scabior pointed his wand at Kennan's still form, "_Ennervate_." The young man began to stir.

"We gonna chase her?" Horskin inquired, failing to grasp Scabior's dangerous mood.

"We'll find her. But firs' I have to deal with the scumbag that let her steal 'is wand." There was no kindness in Scabior's eyes.


	6. Chapter 6: The New World

Chapter 6: The New World

Carly crept through the Muggle market, trying her best to avoid bumping into unsuspecting shoppers and their children, whom they kept within arm's reach at all times. It was funny, the young witch thought as she ducked into an alcove between two stalls to let a tall gentleman sweep past, how Muggles lived in complete ignorance of their magical counterparts. Even the presence of dementors floating about, sucking all the happiness out of the air, passed by non-magical folk unaware. They saw what they expected to see and nothing more.

Shifting the invisibility cloak to ensure that none of her body was visible, Carly snatched a handful of apples from a nearby farmer's stall and deposited them into her rough spun bag which, naturally, was charmed with an undetectable enlargement charm. Chores finished, Carly made her way out of the market and disapparated back to the safe house in London. The stolen wand seemed to be working alright for her, although it still felt distinctly _wrong_.

Carly hadn't been aware of just how dire the situation had become in the months since she went underground. Somehow her correspondence with Neville at Hogwarts and occasional letters from her cousin Tonks hadn't been able to describe the extent to which He Who Must Not Be Named had taken over the Wizarding society of the United Kingdom.

"Helling," Mafalda greeted Carly curtly as soon as she entered the worn-down house. Similar safe houses had sprung up throughout the city, protected by Fidelius charms or people posing as Muggles. Mafalda Hopkirk was among the most sour of the house's inhabitants, having lose her job and become an outlaw all in the same day. She didn't like to speak of the incident, but Carly had gathered that it had something to do with Harry, Ron, and Hermione's break-in at the Ministry several moths previously.

Upon her escape from the snatchers' camp, Carly had tried in vain to regain her old contacts, but it was painfully obvious that she was out of the loop. Luckily, she had stumbled into Amelia Thomas, who had recognized her as a friend of her son Dean and brought her to the safe house. Carly appreciated the help these people gave her, but quickly became unimpressed by their behavior. They seemed to be waiting for someone to save them. She, on the other hand, had never been one to wait for someone to come and sweep her off her feet.

Carly deposited the bag of stolen food onto the small wooden table and glanced about. Several of the building's tenants were clustered around a figure who lay on the ground. Taking a few steps towards the unfolding scene, Carly glimpsed a blood soaked chest, a broad cut across an upper arm leading towards a face –

"Terence!" she exclaimed, rushing forwards and pushing some of the boy's entourage out of her way. She knelt down beside the motionless figure and reached out to grasp his hand. Terrence Higgs had matured since Carly had last seen him. A bit of stubble resided on his chin, the lines of his face were more defined, and his hair looked rather unkept. Although Carly had only spoken to the once-seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team on a couple of occasions, there was no mistaking him. But why was he here? And where had he sustained such injuries?

"I know your face," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Carly." Terence showed no sign of recognizing her. "Charms club. Helling. I mean, I'm Carly Helling," she finished lamely.

Terence's eyes widened momentarily. Carly could have sworn she'd seen a glint of fear flit behind his eyes. Then again, he was bleeding profusely from his chest and probably wasn't thinking coherently at all. Frederick Howl was now running his wand above Terence's wounds, muttering "_Velnura Sanentur."_ When the man had finished, Terence sat up slowly and examined his surroundings with surprisingly clear eyes. Then he turned to look at Carly appraisingly.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He asked.

"I could ask you the same," Carly replied, eying him with concern. "My dad's a Muggle. You can't honestly be surprised that I've been driven underground. You on the other hand…"

"Plans didn't work out," Terence answered tersely. He winced as he turned his chest to continue his inspection of the premises.

Recognizing that it was probably best not to push things any further, Carly stood up and headed towards Mafalda who was stirring the contents of a large cauldron with a wooden spoon. There was something that had been tugging at the young witch's mind for the past few days. Mafalda looked up as Carly approached. The woman obviously did not trust her. That was reasonable, Carly supposed.

"They picked him up near Bowes Park." Mafalda jerked her head towards Terence. "Obviously a wizard. Didn't have a clue how to blend in with Muggles. Makes you wonder how he lasted so long in the first place, hey?"

"Yeah," said Carly distractedly.

"What?" Mafalda asked quite rudely. "I can always tell when you kids want something. You, especially, aren't one to make small talk."

"Have you heard about any recent Ministry legislature?" Carl asked

"Probably." Mafalda looked taken aback turned her attention back to the cauldron. "But quite a lot happens at the Ministry you know." She sniffed at the bubbling substance and wrinkled her nose. "We still do get the Daily Prophet sometimes, though. What's it to you?"

"There was something a few days ago… about prisoners of war."

Mafalda snorted. "That's not really new. When You Know Who took over the Ministry in the summer many people went underground. The Death Eaters hunted lots of them down, but not all. But the new rulers had to keep up appearances, so they announced that many officials, who were really hiding out, were dead. It used to be that the Ministry would pay to have those people captured and brought into the Ministry. Now they just want them killed. At least that's what I heard from my few contacts. "

"But why?" Asked Cary, horrified.

"They've got their hands a bit full right now. It's best if people just disappear. Less administrative work."

_How terribly Orwellian_, thought Carly. She didn't say it out loud, however. Mafalda didn't come across as the type to be familiar with Muggle literature.

* * *

><p>Carly sat on the windowsill, cradling a mug of weak tea between her tired hands. She stared out into the empty square as she tried to determine her next course of action. Moments later, Terence limped up and sat beside her. He was looking much better. Some of the colour had returned to his face and one of the men had lent him a plain blue shirt that, contrary to his own, was not torn and blood-soaked. Actually, Carly couldn't help but to notice that he was quite attractive.<p>

"Been here long?" He asked, "I'd have thought you'd been on the frontlines. Or even with Potter. You were friends, right?"

"My plans didn't exactly work out either," Carly replied, "And yes, I am friends with Harry, but I don't know where he is now. I think it's for the best."

Terence eyed her doubtfully and shrugged. "I just didn't think you'd be hiding out here doing nothing, that's all…"

"I'm not! This is temporary! I've only been here for four days." Carly stood up. She'd only taken a few steps away from the window when Terence stepped in front of her.

"I didn't mean it like that, Carly," he said in soothing tones, "I was only surprised. It's okay," he spoke quickly when he saw the look on Carly's face, "We all seem to end up doing things we don't want to do these days…"

"What about you?" Carly asked. Terence opened his mouth to speak, a frown creasing his forehead, but Carly spoke first. "No, I'm serious. Don't give me any of that bullshit about it not being important or whatever. It makes no sense for you to be out here. You were in Slytherin! You're a pureblood! This new world is made for people like you. _How _did you get hurt?

"I, uh…" He looked wildly around the room. "It's just…"

Carly glared at him.

"So how were the past few years? I guess I left Hogwarts when you were in, what, third year? And then you were a Gryffindor so it's not as though we really had a chance to get to know one another." Terence smiled nervously at the stormy look on Carly's face. "Listen, I don't want to talk about me right now, okay?"

"Fine," Carly turned and walked back towards the window. She glanced out into the darkening courtyard.

"Wha-"

There were figures outside of the house that certainly had been nowhere to be seen before. They were spread across the square, wands glowing faintly in their hands, and they were walking towards the building.

Carly spun about.

"I'm sorry," Terence said quietly. He had his wand out.

"Why, you –"

The glass on Carly's left exploded. Screams erupted within the house and a dark form burst through the broken window, dissolving into the shape of a cloaked man.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I've elected to put my author's spiel at the bottom of my posts now, since I often comment on chapter content and don't want to spoil anything.<strong>_

_**So, no Scabior in this chapter. I'm sorry. But no worries, he'll be back in the next chapter and he'll definitely be making his presence known. Terence Higgs is a real character, though. He used to be the seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team until a certain pale blond boy bought his way onto the team. It may seem like this chapter is rambling a bit, but it will all come together soon.**_

_**Also, sorry if my use of London as a setting is absolutely terrible. Let's just say that I was only 7 when I visited England and I now live very far away.**_

_**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and/or added this story to their subscription lists. I really appreciate, and the reviews encourage me to write more. :)  
><strong>_

_**On a side note, I tend to throw in little allusions/references to other works in every chapter. Sometimes they're in the chapter titles (see the previous chapter), and other times they're much more subtle and hidden within a chapter's text. I will give cookies to anyone who identifies one of them. Well, not really. But I would if it were at all feasible. I'll just be very impressed. Especially if someone guesses the reference in the first chapter.  
><strong>_

_**P.S. There are **_two_** in this chapter. One is quite explicit. **_


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